


I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet

by ApparentlyNotTooOldForThis (Original_Cypher)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ed has a show, M/M, Niall Horan - Freeform, Perrie Edwards - Freeform, Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik - Freeform, friendship with benefits, mentions of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/ApparentlyNotTooOldForThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU<br/><i>So. Harry gets chatty when he's tipsy. And Louis kind of lost track of the sentences as a whole around the time he got a flash of tongue at the word 'lyrics'. Harry's lips are already fairly distracting on their own, to be honest. And with the hum of alcohol in his veins and the energy of the party, Louis' grip on control is slipping a bit. Maybe a lot.</i></p><p> </p><p>Or: the one in which Louis shows his hand just a little bit and what happens next is all the more confusing. But Ed is singing about lovers, so everything will be fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet

“I love Ed,” Louis says, to no one in particular. It's a general truth, really. If he hadn't met the lad, he wouldn't be standing on the back porch of the house he shares with Harry and Nick. If he hadn't gone into an impromptu jam in the music shop with the ginger-haired talent, he wouldn't be floating somewhere between 'buzzed' and 'pissed' in good company. Good company he met _through_ Ed.

“He _is_ pretty great.” Harry is leaning on the railing next to Louis. For the past... however long Louis' solo cup lasted, they've been people watching, surveying the guests milling about in the garden and offering random commentary.

Amongst a group of people from uni having a laugh, Louis spots Perrie and Nick. Naturally, they're the center of the attention. Perrie is flawless, red carpet ready, with her light eyes accented with lots of black, visible from here. The tie'n'die tips of her hair are as bright as her lips. The thing is, she may be perfect now with carefully applied makeup, but she looks just as stunning _au naturel_ , stumbling out of Zayn's room, barely awake, at 10am on a Sunday. Louis might be a bit envious of that. The gorgeous in the morning part, not the hooking up with Zayner part, ew. Well, not _ew_ , Zayn's a hell of a catch, but... yes, ew, friend-cest feels. Bleh. Anyway... Louis doesn't feel he has mastered the sex kitten bed rumpled look. Harry has, though, Louis' sure. He'd bet on it. He'd be very hot with his hair all messed up from the pillow and looking a little dazed. 'Barely awake Harry' and 'Well fucked Haz' look very similar in Louis' head.

Yeah so what if Louis' been wondering about how Harry would look after sex ever since that pool party a couple of weeks back? Because Harry is apparently above swimming trunks and went in with freaking painted on boxers that left very little – very _large_ – to the imagination. Belatedly, Louis learned that Harry only didn't skinny dip that day because Niall insisted on preserving everyone's retinas. Louis isn't sure, to this day, if he's pissed or grateful towards the Irishman for that. Anyway, he hasn't been _thinking_ about Harry that way, just... idly wondering about things. And stuff. Also, about whether the noises Harry would make would resemble the ones he reserves for warm pastries and bananas. Goddamn bananas. Seriously.

“He's mine. Hands off,” Louis ribs, bumping his elbow against Harry's gently.

Perrie's ponytail whirls. If Louis were a chick, he'd probably wear neon stuff. Clothes, hair. Whatever. Even as out and proud as he is, he won't. Maybe it's sexist of him or something, but he doesn't think it looks that awesome on a guy. It makes him think back to Zayn's cheerful statement of _“I'm not drinking too much tonight, I'm getting_ laid _, bro. Priorities.”_ when they arrived tonight. Fair enough. Looking at Perrie now, yeah. He gets it. In a strictly homo way, naturally. But she's beautiful. He gets why so many guys are jealous of the Zayner for having kind of friendship with her that comes with benefits whenever they feel like it. The tanned hunk is a firm believer that one night stands can be fun but are not optimal. The real good stuff starts when you get past the fumbling and really get to know each other. So, despite a reputation of being a player, he instead has a few steady hookups. Judging from living with him and his constant cheerfulness, Louis' willing to go out on a limb and say it's working out for him pretty well.

 _Really, Tommo? Musing about your friends' love lives and how lucky they are?_ Louis needs to get laid. Like, yesterday. He doesn't even wanna _think_ about how long it's been.

Harry is talking. “-not fair, Lou. I know he introduced us and all, but I knew him first. _Way_ first.” He dimples at Louis. “I don't know if I told you how we met, actually. Did I?” Louis shakes his head, even though he's sure Harry wouldn't have needed prompting. “Art class, first year, it was. He's got a couple of antique cameras he got from his dad, did you know? Anyway, he saw I liked photography, so we started talking. Next thing I know, we were taking trips around town to abandoned buildings he wanted to show me, and I took black and whites while he scribbled lyrics in a notebook and composed. He dropped the class pretty quick, I think his thing is really only music and stuff, but I mean, he's got a feeling about the rest, just not... But we still do that. Last week I found a small street, it's _completely_ covered in graffiti. Like, up to the second floor, I don't even know how they did that. I need to take him there, and-...” So. Harry gets chatty when he's tipsy. And Louis kind of lost track of the sentences as a whole around the time he got a flash of tongue at 'lyrics'. Harry's lips are already fairly distracting on their own, to be honest. And with the hum of alcohol in his veins and the energy of the party, Louis' grip on control is slipping a bit. Maybe a lot. Like how he leaned in and cut Harry off mid rant with his mouth.

Oh, _shit_.

Louis falls back on his heels, eyes wide, because _oh my god_ , he _did_ just do that. Who _does_ that?!

He might be having a panic attack. Or a heart attack. Both. Ugh. Harry blinks at him. And fuck, ah, quick exit. Louis contemplates a somersault off the back porch. But there are people bellow. The house is crowded, so he'd have to shoulder and elbow through the swarm of people instead of dashing off. Damn. If only he could spiderman up the facade. Harry's lips – that Louis can still feel on his own, _shit_ – quirk faintly and he says... the most unexpected thing. Then again, it's Harry. Blindsiding Louis is kind of what he does. “Thank you,” he sounds _relieved._ What the actual fuck?! “Hate it when I ramble.” While Louis does a double, then a triple take at that, and replays the last minute to be sure they were both there, Harry gives his drink a critical look. “I should probably slow down for a bit.”

Louis' heart keeps hammering against his sternum. O...kay. He hasn't been punched in the face, so far. So... good? On the other hand, Harry did notice Louis just _kissed_ him, right? Cause he doesn't seem like he has.

At that precise moment, Harry's eyes widen like he's been hit with a realization, and... oh, well, perhaps he's more drunk that Louis thought and it just took... a really long time to sink in. Maybe. “Wait,” Harry fumbles his beer onto the railing, sloshing half of it over his hand, before he rights the cup and shakes the foam away. He then pats his back pocket with his _other_ hand, presumably in search for his phone. Or a blade to stab Louis with. Whatever it is, Louis' brain supplies, o so helpfully, could have easily been done without actually letting go of his drink. But apparently there was an imperative that Harry torture Louis by sucking his malt flavored thumb into his mouth absently while he turned on the display on his cell. One handed. Indeed, requiring only one hand. What the fuck. Drunk people. Though Louis can't judge, because he just kissed someone even though he thought he was just thinking about it. “Ed's gonna play.” Harry says excitedly.

...okay.

“Come on!” Harry nudges Louis towards the inside again. Then, when Louis takes a stunned second too long to react, he manhandles him into facing the right way and herds him in case he gets lost.

“I... Okay,” Louis babbles as Harry's hand, wide against his spine, guides him through, as though he might have forgotten the configuration of the house during their chat. And had suddenly become visually impaired. Last time he checked, his glasses were still on.

And... okay, fine. They didn't just kiss. Or Louis didn't just kiss Harry quiet. That's fine. That's okay. Maybe he dreamed it. Maybe he _was_ just thinking about it. Moving on. Right. Ed's amazing, he's actually been looking forward to seeing him play again.

And suddenly, Harry's gone.

Louis knows, because... well, even if Harry wasn't a tactile person, which he is, he's still quite tall. Massive. He _looms_. Innocently, granted, but he does nonetheless. And Louis is experiencing an abrupt lack of looming. He turns around, torn between confused and worried. He's not a fan of being shepherded like a child but, in all honesty, he's man enough to admit to himself he'd let Harry baby him as much as he wanted if it meant more tantalizing torture of physical contact and pleased looks on the guy's face.

The crowd parts again, and Louis finally catches sight of his favorite curly haired idiot coming back with his newly retrieved beer. Louis is shaking his head fondly when he hears his name being called. He turns around at Zayn's voice, seconds before a giant oaf plasters himself to his back. Well. _Looming_ , while intoxicated, seems to veer off into _weighing_. That's not hard on Louis or anything at all. Nope. Hard. Hahaha. _Help._

“Come quick before everybody notices,” oblivious to Louis' predicament, Zayn gestures them to where Ed is starting to set up. “Before the good spots are snatched up.”

Louis tries to follow at a normal speed, but Harry's chest is pressed to his back, his beer-toting arm flung over to Louis' front, and he's resting quite heavily on his shoulders. Instead of Louis' usual bouncy strut, they straggle forward, the giant human monkey characteristically completely unconcerned by how silly he might appear. On the bright side, Harry being as disproportionate as he is – it's Hazza who's overgrown, Louis is _normal_ , he'll fight you on it –, Louis only has to launch their combined mass forward and they stumble-buldose their way through to the newly formed, non-formal 'first row'. Really, it's just people standing around while Ed is set up in the corner of the living room. Louis idly wonders what happened to the furniture, and whether Harry participated in the move. Because he has no vested interest in possibly witnessing hot guys huffing and puffing while carrying heavy stuff around. Neither is he picturing anyone doing so right now. His thoughts are shattered when he's rocked forward by a sudden bark of Harry's laughter. “What happened to slowing down for a bit?” Louis muses at the half empty cup he can clearly envision spilling down his front as soon as his mate gets animated talking about something. Unless he moves off. But Louis is on the fence about that. On the one hand, he's heavy. On the other, he's Harry. And he's _right there_. And he's warm. And yes, it's stifling in here, but that's neither here nor there.

“Oh, right,” Harry mumbles, and downs the last of his drink over Louis' shoulder. Louis starts shaking his head, a comment on the logic of that action on the tip of his tongue, before... Harry skillfully dunks his empty cup into a bin halfway across the room, over the crowd. With his left hand. Louis stops being judgmental to just stare. The weight on his back radiates self-satisfaction. Harry brings his lips _far_ too close to Louis' ear than is strictly necessary before he confesses. “It's all in the wrist, Lou.”

And Louis is _done_. Harry was created to tease him to death. That's it. It is so _on_.

He retaliates by reaching over and giving Harry's nipple a nasty tweak. Harry flinches away and squawks in protest. Then freezes halfway to stare at Louis in shock when it hits him that Louis aimed for one of the... anatomically unusual ones. Louis lets all his smugness seep into his features. “Why yes, Harold. It was a bit chilly outside,” he croons, batting his eyelashes. “I have an eye for those things. We all have our skills.”

Harry's gaze bores into him, and after a couple of seconds, Louis watches it blur into speculative, perhaps contemplative, and wonders if Harry is about to kiss him. If he's thinking about it. Or if he's misreading it all. Louis certainly has had such thoughts happen when their gazes locked like this. It's those very moments that have allowed Louis' brain to consider that there might be a tiny bit of _what if_ there. That hint of 'realm of possibilities' that landed Harry on the potential list – and graduated him into 'fantasy' pretty much immediately because duh. The moment is shattered when someone bumps into Louis' back, and stays there. Right. People. Ed. Music. Breathing. Important things.

The crowd has thickened, as predicted by Zayner the Wise, who's currently a couple of feet away, showing an utter lack of interest in Louis and Harry's possible fumbling, too focused on snogging the daylights out of... huh. Liam again. Interesting. That's been happening more and more lately.

It's been oddly not weird for Louis to be a witness to the evolving relationship between his two flatmates. All three started out as a merry band of misfits back in the middle of first year when they fled student housing together. They made quite the team. Zayn, the openly bisexual guy with the collection of tattoos and steady hookups. Louis, the loud, sass and swagger master with a distinct taste for cute guys. And Liam, the quiet, caring big brother type who watched after them when their rock'n'roll attitude rocked them just that tiny bit too hard and send a wrong note through their heart strings. – wow, drunk metaphors are trippy. And musical, apparently – While Louis always knew he was into dudes, Liam took some heartaches and a few girlfriends to figure out he was a Kinsey 6 as well. A lot more reserved than the intrepid duo of wingmen slash partners-in-crime their friends took to nickname 'Zouis', Liam is the quiet one out of the three. Slowly, though, Zayn's carefree approach to affection and human contact melted Liam's usually shy and stoic demeanor. These days, it's not rare for Louis to find them casually cuddling while watching something on tv, or racing each other at Mario Kart while sitting in a tangle of limbs. Louis' not judging. You take the snuggles when you can get them. It's unfair that societal norms dictates that adults and 'people that aren't a couple' are not supposed to engage in PDA. Or even DA for that matter. Why the eff not?! A stands for _affection_. Affection's awesome! Louis would know, he's taken part in quite a few snuggles of his own with one of them or both. Though he made it clear from the start that he had no interest in anything sexier. – “Wha..?” Zayn had pouted. “You don't think I'm sexy enough?” “Please, you're a hot piece and you _know_ it.” Louis had volleyed back.” “What he said,” Liam had concluded, before implying that he was pretty confident he could make up for the lack of sexing up Louis if need be. Louis had stopped listening when Zayn had started asking about whether Liam thought he could bench-press him. – However, between Ziam – _ha! Take that, Payno_ –, things had always been that tiny bit naughty. From the get go they flirted shamelessly. Louis does, as well, but he thinks it's clear when he means it and when he does not. When you flirt with someone while snuggling with no pants on – because it's Sunday – it seems a bit more risqué. So there had been casual leaning against each other, then bro-cuddles, then drunken makeouts that made it awkward until halfway through breakfast and “what do you mean, we're out of Marmite?! Zayn! You were supposed to get it!” righted it all. Then once snogging for the hell of it was a common occurrence, things quickly escalated to include other things. Better things. Naked-er things. They can even occasionally be found napping together on the couch. Although those occurrences might have been accidental.

So Louis was wrong after all. It looks like it wasn't Perrie Zayn had in mind earlier when he shared his plans to take someone to bed with him. But wait, so... he came to a party, and it looks like he's going to take _Liam_ home? It's all fine and all but... Couldn't he have gotten laid without coming? Coming _here_ , that is. Then again, when Louis looks over, the pair is cuddling, as they're wont to do – Liam wrapped behind Zayn in a much more dignified manner than _some other_ big guy Louis knows – as they watch Ed tune his guitar and laughing quietly as they whisper to each other. Maybe they just wanted to enjoy the party. Fair enough.

Granted, Louis knew Harry would be here, this being his place and all, but yeah, he totally showed up strictly for the shindig as well. Not because he's starved for someone's attention. So he gets it, really.

Speaking of-... No, incidentally – _coincidentally –_ , it so happens that Harry knows whoever is to his side – which Louis can't see past the giant – and is carrying a conversation with them punctuating it with his usual gesturing. Said gesturing which inevitably lands his hands back on Louis. Yes. Because Louis hadn't noticed that your big ass hand was on his waist. So, why don't you take it off, then put it back, pet a little there, then do it all over again? Louis gets it, okay? There's nothing to read into it. It's drunken behavior. Harry's keeping a loose hold on Louis, it's not because he thinks he might run off, get lost or because he's possessive. It's because it's where his hands were and-... well, past a certain hour and a certain blood/alcohol level, it's hard enough to carry on a conversation. Let alone an intelligent one. So, keeping track of what your limbs are doing and whether it's useful or appropriate becomes secondary. Way past secondary. Last-dary?

Niall is accompanying Ed at the cajón tonight, and the acoustic softness that results has Louis drifting between senses. The songs he knows, he follows the meaning to. The ones that are new to him he ends up tuning out involuntarily, dragged away on Ed's rich voice and the melodies that come out of the dance of his fingers on the guitar strings. Niall's quiet rhythm feels like a heartbeat, and Louis is lost. He's drunk on the alcohol and the music, on the side to side sway he and Harry have got going. He can't remember when it started or who initiated it, they're just moving. Harry hums along to most of Ed's words, his throat vibrating against Louis' scalp. It should be weird, silly. It just feels more zen. Louis is distantly aware that he's still taking some of Harry's weight, but yet his bones feel like molasses. He would bet money that if Harry stepped back now, he'd crumple into a heap out of sheer laziness to stand.

Ed sings a new song about... there's a lot of the word 'friends' in it, so it must be sweet and nice and about friendship. – Louis _has_ to ask Ed for his demo again, so he can listen to it while sober and away from... distractions. – It seems to resonate particularly with Ziam, by the way Ed is grinning at them and they're both positively beaming back. Louis would love to pay more attention to the lyrics and try to puzzle the story behind the looks his friends share, but he can't really focus on anything, because Harry is behind him, swaying to the beat and Louis wonders if he's aware of how it makes his zipper drag back and forth across Louis' ass, catching on every seam. Both his arms have slipped under Louis' now, around his waist. And Louis is kind of happy the crap beer, the heat and the music are finally hitting him, because it's driving him a bit insane. So it's either allowing his eyes to drift shut again, resting his head back and letting Harry take the lead because apparently they're slow dancing while spooning upright, or, if he was more alert and more affected, turning around and laying one on Harry, whether he saw it coming or not, or wished for it, as a punishment for being such a bloody fucking _tease_.

So. He leans back, goes with it and tries not to memorize the way their bodies slot together so well, the way Harry feels against him. Because that's gonna haunt him, later on, he knows it. He's not stupid. He's just a masochist.

 

\--

 

Louis stretches like a cat, giving in to an undignified yawn while he's alone in the hall. He's not sleepy, per se, but it's edging on three in the morning and he's gotten up relatively early for classes all week, it's taking its toll. More than the alcohol, it's the main cause of the rubbery feelof his bones now. Harry, despite enjoying the party himself, is being an exemplar host and managed to stay on top of the situation. Mainly, he noticed a catastrophicdwindling in the fluids supply and went to hunt down Nick to know where the other kegs have been stored. Good man, Harry.

Louis' jaw gives a faint warning crack at the abuse it's taking and he blinks his eyes open. Wrapping one hand around his other wrist, he pushes upwards and clamps his mouth shut on the next yawn, letting it expand in his throat instead. It most definitely doesn't give him other ideas. Because he has decided that he will _not_ think back to how long it's been. Dammit.

“Nick said there are two more in the back of his car, he-...” Harry trails off when he comes into view. Louis lets his arms fall back down and hides one last self indulgent yawn behind a fist, ducking an eyebrow at his friend to continue. Harry holds up a set of keys in a jerky motion. “Got the keys.”

Louis nods. He thinks he recalls Nick's truck being parked at the front of the house. He wordlessly confirms with Harry that they're heading that way, then sets off down the hall, confident Harry is on his heels. He freezes on the spot as he rounds the corner, and backtracks a step as quick as he can. Logically, he collides with Harry's front. To prevent a possible noise of surprise or protest, he makes a quieting motion and peers around the wall with a mischievous smile, move that Harry is quick to imitate with curiosity and childish excitement. The hall is not empty.

Okay. So, either they'll have to go around through the backyard, or they might get material to hold over Ziam's head for weeks. Louis is willing to risk seeing groping he's not participating in for the pleasure of making fun of his best mates. “C'mon,” Liam mutters against Zayn's lips. They're pretty much grappling on their way to the front door. The look on Harry's face is priceless. He must be scandalized to have his house defiled like this. “we can-... Zayn- nghn...” Okay. Wow. Louis does not want to see them dry hump. Love them, but _no_ . It's adorable, however, how both of them whine in protest when Liam manages to nudge Zayn out of the kiss. “Babe,” the instant bashful yet happy crinkle in Zayn's eyes at the endearment is something Louis will mock him with for _ages_. Mr I Don't Do Feelings melts at pet names, aw. “let's go home, I want to do this in an actual bed.”

“Hm.” Zayn pets Liam's chest. Louis understands, those are fine pectorals. “Bed. Yes.”

Louis relaxes against Harry. Looks like they only have a few moments to wait, and they'll be able to follow them out to the parking lot. “Yeah.” Liam smiles, then, and whispers. “Boyfriend.”

Wait, _what_?! Louis doesn't care that he probably looks bonkers with his mouth hanging open in shock. But this is a word he definitely hasn't heard thrown around in the house for _a long time_. Liam's last bf-labelled relationship ended months ago, and Zayn just does say shit like-... “Boyfriend,” aforementionned Malik individual echoes, positively glowing, running feather light touches of his fingers on the skin of Liam's bare arms.

Well shit. Louis stands corrected. Big effing time.

His face must look pretty much like Harry's right now, he thinks as he turns around to catch his eyes. They exchange a silent commentary of “did you know about this?!” and “this is adorable and it might be awesome. Or is it terrible? But they look so cute!” faces. From the way Ziam is acting and looking at each other, this strongly feels like a recent development. – Harry would probably say something mushy like “the lastest step on the path they were always on”. – They're kissing again. And if before felt like interrupting _in flagrante_ , now Louis feels like he's intruding. He's about to shove Harry backwards and go the long route after all, when Zayn wrenches himself away. “ _Home_. Bed. Now. _God_. You drive.”

Liam laughs in his neck and steps back. Then, after a quick brush of his shirt into a less walk-of-shame-y shape, he... holds his freaking hand out for Zayn to take as they walk out! Louis gapes after them.

 _Unbelievable._ When did this happen?! Why didn't Louis know about this before they did?! He hasn't been _that_ distracted that he missed-... Harry shuffles next to him and Louis remembers he's not alone. Quickly, he schools his expression into amused nonchalance. “Hm.” Not fooled, Harry chuckles quietly. “Whelp. If you ever grow tired of Nick's snoring or Ed's amazingness... I feel like we'll have a vacant room at the flat, pretty soon,” he muses. Then pretends not to want to slap himself. Yeah, _sure_ , Tomlinson, why not invite the guy you're fighting hard not to jump – even if you don't know if he's straight or not – to move in with you?

Harry makes a pensive noise. “Niall's looking.”

Ah. Well. Okay. Bullet dodged. Also... possible hint, right? It could have been the prefect opportunity to flirt, had Harry been amenable. Like, Louis would have gone with 'buy me diner first' or someth-... “Wait, really?!”

“Yeah,” Harry says, shrugging as they both start towards the door. “He said they're gonna bump up the rent on his place again and he's decided to look for something else. Possibly, a flat with less water stains.” But, but... Louis and Niall and Ziam only met Harry and Nick recently through their favorite ginger headed singer. Have the two groups merged so much already?!

“Huh. I'll keep that in mind, I guess.” Louis is extrapolating, _a lot_ , but if Zayn and Liam do the happy couple routine and actually finish moving into the same room together, he'll bring it up with them and to Niall. The Irishman seems like he'd be an easy roomie to deal with and always a riot. Fit right in.

“You should crash with me.” Harry cuts into his train of thought. He cleaves it in half with a sudden, resounding silence in Louis' brain.

“I... I should?”

“One... it looks like the storm's finally gonna hit.” Harry flicks a hand to the night sky, which is devoid of stars and seems, indeed, quite low. “And I know you're responsible, so you'll hoof it. And it's like... twenty minutes, _sober_. So you'll get caught in it. _Besides_ ,” Harry's hand is warm and huge on Louis' hip. “if I got that correctly, you have a soundtrack of celebratory, newly monogamous sex to look forward to.”

Oh. “ _Riiight..._ ” Fair point, that. “Huh.” He bites his lips. “Okay. So, following so far. Now explain how that leads to _'with me'_.”

If he had expected Harry to be fazed, he'd have been disappointed. Harry gives him a bright smile as they stop behind Nick's truck. “Easy. Both couches are propped up on their sides against the wall upstairs, you'll see. Nick probably has at least one bloke in his bed already and.... Ed's lovely and all, but... the lad snores something fierce.”

“Ah.” That makes sense. But... sharing a bed with Harry? There are limits to the level of torture Louis will willingly inflict on himself. _In th_ _eory_. Which is why he squints speculatively at Harry. “Will there be sustenance in the morning?”

Harry tilts his head while he thinks like the overgrown puppy he is. “I doubt we have much that's not past due _here_ ,” he says. “but the diner down the street does a _mean_ brunch menu. Until _three_.”

“Sold!” Louis cries, then brings up a hand. Self preservation! “Wait! What's...”, he gestures between them. “the configuration?”

Harry looks at him for a bit then grins. “I sleep with the window open. Very occasionally, Mittens, a black and white street cat, wanders in. He's cool. I have a king size. Hard mattress – bad back. I will not run off screaming if you want to borrow my toothbrush but I will give you a disposable if you want to shave. The bathroom is down the hall so you won't hear anyone getting up to wee. Unless it's me and I faceplant because I tripped over Mits, it's happened before – don't ask. The street out back is quiet but sometimes in the morning the birds can be loud. I can lend you a shirt and boxers to change into if you want. I sleep naked.”

Louis stares. On a normal day, at 10am, sober and decaffeinated, that would already have been a lot to take in. But-... wait, _naked?_

Harry cracks up. “Your face!”

Pointedly, Louis rejects all attempt of his brain to suggest shoving Harry in retaliation as too much effort, and pops the trunk open instead.

“I'll cover up for you, though. Don't worry.” Harry picks up a keg of beer like it's nothing and beams. “I'm not that kind of girl.”

Louis is not really sure if he would have minded, so it's probably a good thing that Harry is not, in fact, that kind of girl. Whatever that means. He pushes his glasses up his nose, then uses both hands to haul the second barrel out and onto the floor like a normal human being.

“Hey, by the way,” Harry huffs out in a strain, slamming the trunk shut. “I didn't know you wore glasses.”

Louis waits for the flash of headlights indicating the car's been locked to lift his charge back up and ambles back towards the house. “Yeah. Contacts, usually.”

“No, I mean, I knew that. I see them sometimes.” Harry appears by his side. Louis notes with satisfaction that he has now both arms wrapped around his keg. Ah, so he's not Clark Kent. Good to know. “I just... some people never wear glasses at all.”

“Oh,” Louis doesn't actually mind them much. It's mostly that putting the lenses on has become an automatized part of his morning routine. “Sometimes I do. I just... when I get sloshed I often forget to take the contacts off and then I hate myself for two days.”

Harry's laughter bares his throat and Louis does _not_ notice. “I see.”

 

–

 

“Was that the last ones?” Louis croaks, taking his palms off where he was pressing them to his eyes.

“Yep. House locked and emptied,” Harry says. “You know, you didn't have to wait up.”

Louis gives him a look. “Yeah. Sure. I should have left you to do all the work alone. Gone and crashed in your bed, hogged all your covers. You'd have slept on the floor, mate.”

Harry's eyes crinkle, he doesn't look worried. “You gonna be a fighter, huh?”

“Uh...” Actually, Louis doesn't know. He can be restless at night, and starfishes shamelessly in his own sheets, but it's been a long time since he's shared with someone. “Dunno,” he says and heads in the direction of the stairs before he makes things awkward. When they get to the landing, Harry takes the lead and ushers him through the right door. Louis tries not to think about how this looks, about what conclusions could be drawn or jokes made by onlookers.

“I am just about ready to pass out,” Louis admits as Harry, merciful genius that he is, bypasses the main light switch and turns on his bedside lamp instead.

“Good. Aim this way.” He gestures to his bed.

Even in the darkness, Harry's room seem cozy. They're a whole lot of books and dvds on the shelves, and it makes Louis' little nerd heart chirp happily. In one corner, there's the battered guitar Harry brought along to the beach a couple of weeks back, and, next to it, an amp. Louis wonders where the electric guitar is, whether there are more. He'll have to make inquiries when he feels more alive. Harry gives the cue to undress when he reaches behind his back to lift his tee off. Reaching for his belt in absent, automatic movements, Louis continues taking in his surroundings. By the looks of things, Harry's being a good boy and doing homework at his desk. There's a closed laptop there, a pile of books and a few scattered pens. It makes sense, if he truly does have a bad back. Louis tries not to imagine himself lounging on the bed doing his own readings while Harry types away an essay. No. Because study dates are so high school and what the fuck is his brain even _on_?! His eyes circle back to Harry, who's looking back at him in hesitation. He's pulled off shoes and socks but stopped there. He sweeps a hand over his bare stomach. “You sure this is okay?”

Louis grins. “Depends. You a sleep snuggler?”

Harry ducks his head as he laughs. “Don't think so. Guess you'll tell me,” he makes a cheeky face that Louis has trouble deciphering. “Alright, I'll stop treating you like you're a blushing virgin. Just slap me when I get to far,” he decides, then shucks his jeans.

“Yeah,” Louis comments sarcastically, as he rids himself of his own clothing. “Because slapping is so not a cliché blushing virgin move or anything.”

Harry gasps, turning round eyes on him. “That's right! We're at an impasse.”

“You need sleep,” Louis diagnoses. Damn that butterfly tattoo is all kinds of ridiculous.

Then again, it probably has a meaning. Louis' ink looks just as quirky, odds are, but he wouldn't change it for the world. One day, he'll have to ask whether Harry's willing to share the story behind his ink. “Clearly.” Harry comments. When Louis looks up, he briefly thinks Harry might have been looking at the nipple he has pierced, bellow his 78 tattoo, but he must have dreamed it. Harry shakes his head and drums his fingers on the dresser that stands by his side. “Wanna shirt that doesn't smell like booze?”

“That'd be nice.” Louis grins, if he's a good boy, maybe Harry will let him borrow it to go home with tomorrow. He is not looking forward to putting his stained shirt back on. Because, guess what? Even if Harry managed to avoid spilling hooch on him, other people didn't. Ah, uni life. “Yeah, if we're gonna sleep with the window open, I wouldn't mind.”

Harry drags a drawer open and picks up the first thing on the pile. “Leeds okay?” he offers, showing Louis a tee stamped with the festival's logo.

“Leeds' is awesome.” _Harry_ is awesome. Louis digs himself deeper with every new tidbit of info he learns. He catches the shirt when Harry tosses it at him. “Cheers.”

He pulls it on and looks down at himself. He's completely drowned in it. It's comfy and all, and soft as fuck, but man... if he was going for sexy... Harry's bark of laughter makes him look up. “it's not tight on me either.”

“Oh good.” Louis wonders how dismayed he must have looked for Harry to pick up on it. “I feel a tiny bit better.”

Harry is actually picking his clothes up and hanging them on the back of his desk chair. While he's got his back turned, Louis toes his own in a less messy pile bashfully. Oops. Neat freak, meet slob. “You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed off, Louis.” Harry says, seriously, and when Louis looks up to meet his eye, he gives a small smile. “And I'm pretty sure you know that already.”

Louis blushes, looks down. “Eh.”

When he looks again, Harry's dimples are on display. Fuck. Oh, god, and now he's turning his back to Louis, Jesus Christ. Harry opens the window, and the sound of the pouring rain fills the room instantly. It's heavy, but the storm has moved on and there hasn't been a crack of thunder in a while. Harry glances back, hand still on the handle. “Sure that won't keep you up?”

“Wake me up later, maybe. Keep me up, now? No way.” To be honest, Harry's mattress might be hard, but his pillows look so fucking comfy he wants to nuzzle into one, like, yesterday.

Harry leaves the window open and pulls the covers back, sitting down on his side. “Okay. Just... feel free to get up and close it if it bothers you sometime, even if i'm still conked out, yeah?”

Louis is not waiting to be told before he follows. He doesn't get into bed as much as he drops onto it. “kay,” he mumbles.

“Great.”

“Rmph...” Louis pulls his glasses off and shuffles around. He's intending to throw them onto the pile of his clothes but Harry holds out a hand.

“Give 'em here.” Too tired to question what Harry would even want with them, Louis hands them over. “Night, Lou.”

“Night, Haz.” He was right, the pillows are awesome. “Thanks for letting me crash.”

“Anytime,” Harry grunts as he twists on himself. Louis knows it's just a convention of a reply, so he tries not to think about crashing in Harry's bed _anytime_.

The last things Harry does before turning off the lamp and he flopping back onto his side, facing Louis, is set the glasses down on his bedside table. Louis is a bit sad that, without them, he can't see what they look like next to Harry's journal and the framed picture of Harry's parents and sister.

 

\---

 

Louis wakes gradually, the knowledge of his surroundings being unfamiliar seeping in slowly instead of startling him into alertness. First, the sounds he hears are organic. Leaves, birds, residential area sounds. The smell is, as well. Tree sap and fresh air he can just imagine feeling on his face. In comparison to his own bedroom, with the constant whir of his computer that, really, he should reboot more than once every three months, it is not an unpleasant break. Second, he is buying a new mattress. One like Harry's. Hard is the way to go.

Which... he should have known. It is for most things he likes, after all.

Eh.

Penis jokes.

Louis smirks to himself as he stretches lazily. People call him a cat person for a reason. He's a _cat-person_. Damn. That bed, though. Is it possible to feel hungover and well rested at the same time? Because that sounds suspiciously like what's going on with him right now.

“Morning,” Harry greets quietly, behind his back. Right. _Third_ , warm, pleasant presence of another being in close proximity. Blinking blearily, he shuffles to turn over in place and notices in satisfaction that he hasn't claimed most of the space to himself during the night. _Good boy, me._ Slowly, Harry comes into semi focus. Louis can make out a grin and a crazy case of bed hair that he is sure is attractive as fuck and he really wishes he had his glasses right now. Harry also has a phone in his hand.

“Hi. Morning,” Louis croaks. He clears his throat and starts again. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Meh,” Harry puts the device away without looking. “I was just pondering if I should get a mop or a bucket for all that drool, is all.”

Louis narrows his eyes and paws at his face, just in case. He's pretty sure it's a joke. “Ha, ha,” he grumbles. “Hilarious, Styles.”

Harry's chuckle is mostly a rumble in his chest rather than a sound. Louis can feel the ripples of it across the matress. “You're cute when you pout,” Harry comments offhandedly.

“Yeah. It's my secret smolder,” Louis runs a hand down his face and shakes his head. “The sleep-rumpled-and-hungover-Tommo is a killer.”

Harry snickers again. A beat passes, Louis chews on the inside of his lip. What are they doing, now? Should Louis say thanks and be on his way? Wait, they did talk about food, yeah? Or like, should he be getting up? But Harry has yet to hand him his glasses back and he must be able to tell that Louis is a little bit impaired without them right now.

Just as Louis takes a breath to ask for them, Harry speaks up. “So...” he sounds about as unsure as Louis feels, so at least there's that. They can flounder together. “I'm pretty sure I didn't drink enough to make up memories last night.” Louis has to agree. They both slowed down after Ed's show. Harry being a good host – also, a person fond of his living environment – kept toeing the sobriety line all night as people got more and more sloshed so he could handle any possible crisis. Louis isn't a prick, he kept him company. Also, bonus, he kept Harry company. “So I think I recall you kissing me last night.” Louis stops reminiscing abruptly. Right for the gut punch, then. Okay.

Not wearing glasses is definitely a mixed blessing. You don't actually have to face someone just as much. But you can't gauge their cues as well either. Like, Louis _thinks_ Harry might have been looking at his lips just now. But he's not sure. Also, he couldn't really see _how_ he was looking... wherever his gaze drifted for a second. “... perhaps.” Louis says quietly. It's not a squeak, he's pretty sure. Well, in for a penny...“What, ah... If you hadn't made that up, uh... How do you think you'd feel about that?”

Silence stretches on, and Louis frowns, has to squint and lean a little closer to at least get some visual feedback. With the movement, Harry looks up at him and their gazes meet properly. He's not smiling, but amusement dances in his eyes. “I'd feel like waiting until we're both sober to try that again, to make sure it's optimal and desired on both parts,” he waits for a beat, as if he expected Louis to add something, then sniffs. “Which I have.” Louis blinks in confusion, frowns. “Waited,” Harry clarifies.

“Oh. Gotcha.” Another blink. “ _Oh,_ ” Louis' glance at Harry's lips is entirely involuntary. He meant to meet his eyes again, to be sure he got that right. But apparently he did, because he looks just in time to catch Harry's mouth quirking into a smirk. Well then, he thinks, and feels himself start to grin. “Eh,” is the last thing Louis says before he leans in to kiss those lips again.

Harry smiles into it, the dork, then responds in kind. For all the casual, matter of fact attitude he displayed moments ago, Louis can feel the nervousness seeping away from his posture as they both sink into it. Louis was so right in all his self-forbidden musings, Harry's lips were made for this. Soft and full and sinfully _good_ even barely parted as they are now. He was right, and yet it's much _much_ better than he imagined. What a glorious way to wake up.

“God, Lou...” Harry gets out between kisses, and he sounds so wrecked already it sends a shiver down Louis' spine. “...wanted to do this for ages.”

Louis makes a helpless noise low in his throat, biting his lower lip. “Yeah?” He reaches up, needs to touch the contours of Harry's face, trace the dip of a dimple.

“Yeah,” Harry goes in and replaces Louis' teeth with his own, earning himself a quiet moan. “thought about it a lot.” He laps at the sting, then claims Louis' mouth as his for another heated press. “You?”

Louis groans, sinking his fingers into Harry's hair. “You have _no idea_ ,” he growls. “drove me _nuts_.” And with that he tugs. He doesn't mean too, he's just a little crazed at the moment, but Harry's reaction is _fantastic_. He mewls, hand finding Louis' hip and gripping hard as he finally, finally pushes in to deepen the kiss. Louis shudders, shuffles closer with a needy noise and gives as good as he gets.

They get lost in the dance of their tongues together, in the drag and catch of their lips, in the small, private grins and chuckles that escape in between them when in the chase to taste each other's smile. Harry's hand has slipped under the shirt he lent Louis, splayed wide and fingers stroking softly. Louis can see his beautiful eyes without a blur from this close, and he's content to stare at them for a while, tangling his fingertips in the baby-soft curls he found behind Harry's ears. “Hi,” Harry's smile is disarming. Louis was doomed from the moment they met.

He grins back, most likely looking goofy as fuck. “Hey, you.”

Harry dips his head to poke his nose at the corner of Louis' quirked mouth – because he doesn't want to let go of him, _aw_. “I like this.”

“Like what?”

“Your smile.” Harry nudges their noses together. “You've got a beautiful smile.” His hand is large and warm where it's curved on the slope down from Louis' ribs to his waist.

“Really?” Louis actually laughs at that. “ _You_ 're telling me this? Mr Dimples Of Massive Seduction?” Harry flushes and settles the nonexistent argument by dragging Louis into another kiss. And yeah, okay, no argument there whatsoever.

They make out lazily, losing track and interest in the time. At some point, Harry reclines back, dragging Louis half on top of him. It has the bonus side effect of freeing both of their respective arms. Louis scoots contentedly closer and sticks one hand back into Harry's mane where it belongs, and lets the other drift down his face, his neck, exploring his shoulder and chest, tracing tattoos, inventing new ones. It's a trick of sensation, but when Harry splays his wide between his shoulder blades and on the small of his back, pinkie resting just on top of the waistband of his boxers, it feels like they're spanning the entire length of his spine. It feels dangerous and safe at the same time, and Louis yearns to push back into it but also snuggle closer. They both seem to share feline qualities, as it seems. While Louis stretches languidly against him, Harry rumbles happily, like a big car purring in a patch of sun.

“This doesn't seem to be headed for crazy, wild morning sex.” Harry comments offhandedly as he watches his own hand carding through Louis' hair.

“Yeah, no.” Louis is half hard, because, duh... _Harry_. But there's definitely more caressing and kissing than groping and grinding. “Problem?”

“Nah,” Harry says easily, pecking the tip of his nose. “I'm not really feeling crazy and wild just now.”

More like, hungover and drowsy, Louis thinks. He tilts his head and sighs happily at Harry's ministrations. God, if he keeps this up, Louis is going to go right back to sleep. With an even greater pillow.

Harry chuckles softly. “I'm gonna take a wild guess and say neither are you.”

Louis smiles. “Damn. Are we an old couple, already?” he jokes, then his eyes open abruptly, his smile falling. “Not that-... I mean, I didn't-... I dunno what you're in for-...”

“Breakfast,” Harry cuts into his ramble and – O, how the tables have turned – leaning up to kiss him quiet. Under Louis' hand, his heartbeat might have picked up. “I'm hungry,” Harry says softly. “But I wanna keep you. I wanna take you out for breakfast.”

Louis stares back at him. It doesn't tell him _anything_ , but he is definitely all for that plan. So he nods. He thinks that's what he's doing.

He shuffles back onto his side, resuming their previous arrangement of limbs. Harry's eyes are searching as his hand snakes back to settle in what is quickly become Louis' favorite spot. “Maybe that can be a first date, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Hope blooms hot and sudden in Louis' chest. It's not like he's never _done_ one night stands, or that he wouldn't. But he really likes Harry, and liked getting to know him and he wouldn't want to go back to barely acknowledging him after a quick getting off. Fuck friends would be better. But a _date_ , yeah, fuck, definitely.

Harry grins, blinding, sunny and dimpled and Louis' ears inform him that he possibly said that last part out loud. With all the feelings in it. Shit.

Oh, well. As long as Harry takes it that way...

“So... that diner down the block, then?” Louis seems to recall something like that. Harry nods, chewing on a grin. “We should probably get up, in that case.”

“Yeah,” Harry seems almost sad to have to remove his hand from under the shirt Louis is wearing. Louis understands the feeling, especially when he's given one last squeeze on the hip, Harry's thumb digging in the dip just behind the pelvis. It's almost enough to have him change his mind and climb on top Harry to attack his lips. Then again, _date_. With a surely idiotic grin, he surges forward to peck Harry's lips and sits up. He accepts his glasses gratefully and glances around in search for, ah, his clothes. There. When he turns around, he finds he's being observed. Harry shuffles closer, reaching up to touch the frames at Louis' temple. “Did I mention how ridiculously hot those look on you? Cause, man, I had to adjust so many fantasies when you came in last night.”

Louis bites his lip against the surge of heat that flares to his face and ducks his head. He must be blushing something fierce.

Harry's chuckle is a warm huff of breath against his cheek an instant before he presses a kiss there. “You're so cute.”

Louis makes a face. “I liked hot better.”

“You can be both. You definitely manage both.” Harry scoots closer, tugging at Leeds shirt. “'Specially in my clothes.”

Louis fingerwalks across the butterfly on Harry's stomach. “Gotta say.” He licks his lips, leans down to kiss the tip of a bird's wing. “I kind of like you out of those.”

Harry's huff of breath is shuddery. His hand flattens on Louis' torso, thumb coming to brush at the barbell hidden under the layer of clothing. Breath hitched high in his chest, Louis looks up. Harry's eyes flick back up to his. “That's interesting.”

Louis bites his lip. Harry groans as he tracks the movement, and slouches back. He grips Louis' side firmly, then lets go. “Okay, food. Clothes.” They both chuckle. “Bathroom. Let me... Let me show you.”

Harry offers to lend Louis a pair of fresh boxers and grins approvingly when he picks a Pink Floyd tee to borrow. True to his word, Harry is willing to share his toothbrush, which doesn't bother Louis one bit. They did just spend the better part of an hour trading saliva. While Harry brushes energetically, Louis leans back against the washing machine and bumps his bent knee to Harry's hip. “Kissing morning breath away is a little known technique,” he muses, grinning as Harry looks up at him in the mirror. “I'm glad I'm informed, now. Feel all knowledgeable.”

Harry rinses his mouth and the brush, then turns to him serenely. “It wasn't that bad.”

“Barely even noticed,” Louis confirms, tugging Harry closer with his foot. He croons when Harry steps close and lifts him up on the washing machine, setting between his thighs. “Too much gorgeous hunk to distract me.”

“Hm...” Harry's lips are minty and feel cool. That's an interesting sensation Louis wouldn't mind experimenting with at some point. Harry is a spoil sport, though, and just as Louis goes in for a second kiss, he presses the toothbrush to Louis' lips in a shushing motion. His eyes crinkle at Louis' half hearted glare. “I'll get you a towel.”

Louis does his best to ignore _Harry on his knees_ , rummaging through the linen cupboard at his side, and focuses on the sink instead. Harry explains the basics of the shower and the trick to get the door to open. Then waves a hand towards the inside. His parting words are “This is my shelf. Use whatever.”

Louis steps inside, flicks the towel over the top of the stalland examines his weapons for today. Aw, conditioner. Harry gets more adorable every second. It's with a grin on his face that Louis ducks his head under the spray.

When he pokes his head back in the room, Harry is laying sideways across his bed on his stomach, and that does wonders to his butt and the curve of his spine. He glances over his shoulder and pushes up. “You'll have some company while you wait,” he informs, and Louis registers a tail held high where Harry's hand had been hanging seconds ago. “Mittens dropped by, now that it stopped pouring.” The cat rounds the bed and comes into view. It's big, round, black and white with happy looking slits for eyes that make him look like he just stepped out of an anime. Gathering his clean clothes under his arm, Harry gives him one last tickle under his chin. Louis is not jealous. “He can't get into the house. Don't let him out of the room. He shouldn't ask, anyway.”

Louis sits on the bed while he tugs his snickers back on, then falls backwards and laughs unexpectedly. The originally white paint of Harry's ceiling paint has gone yellowish with age. A parchment-looking map of Arrakis has been drawn on it, and Louis has no doubt that it was Harry and not someone who lived here before. Harry is a Herbert fan alright. He wasn't kidding when he said so during one of their first conversations, when they compared Dune to the rest of the series.

Mittens hops on the bed and comes to sniff at Louis' face curiously. “Hello, Harry's buddy,” Louis greets gently, bringing a hand up to be examined. “You seem like a friendly chap, eh?” Mittens butts his head against Louis' fingers and Louis scratches him behind the ear, smirking when the cat closes his eyes voluptuously and leans into it. “Just like your giant friend, huh?” He pets the animal absently, his eyes tracking back to the ceiling and he thinks back to his teenage fantasies of Kyle MacLachlan in the movie, and how unsettled he had been to know Sting from his parents' record collection and find him in it as an actor. Mittens settles with his head tucked into Louis' neck, and Louis closes his eyes. Harry better hurry back, or he might pass out on him again. He feels definitely more human now that he's showered, and he suspects food will take care of the last remnant of his minor hangover.

Mittens starts licking his paw, and Louis giggles quietly at the tickle of his whiskers at his jaw. Harry choses that moment to step back in, gorgeous in a simple maroon tank and skinny jeans torn at the knees. Boy, if that doesn't make Louis imagine Harry in interesting positions... “Huh. You must be very special.” Harry comments, taking in the sight. “Mits is usually wary of people in general.” He extends his arm towards the bed in prompting.

Louis grabs the offered hand, lets Harry haul him to his feet. “But he trusts you. And I do smell like you.”

“Hmm...” Harry pulls him close and nuzzles in his neck to make sure. “Not so much me as my soap anymore. Gonna have to fix that.” He seems to mean right away, and Louis is happy to oblige, meeting his lips halfway.

The tips of Harry's hair are wet from where they got hit by the shower, and they're going to give such pretty curls. But for now, they leave streaks of moisture on the back of Louis' hands as he buries them back in. Groaning in approval, Harry lets his hands roam free, as if _a cat_ actually prompted him to scent-mark Louis as his. Displays of possessiveness shouldn't be so hot, really. But Harry's touch feels electric down Louis' sides, up his back, palming one bum cheek, gripping Louis' hips, and sliding up his front before Harry cradles his jaw so gently Louis feels _revered_. The kiss drags on, timeless, and Louis starts to think they're never going to make it out of the bedroom and he won't mind at all, when they are interrupted by Harry's stomach growling. Louis tries not to laugh, but the quirk of his smile against Harry's lips sets the curly haired man off. They break apart grinning.

“How late do you think is too scandalous to show up for breakfast at that diner of yours?” Louis muses as he watches Harry pull a scarf out of a drawer and tie it around his head.

“We should probably try to order before it turns twelve, but we should be safe.” He checks himself in the mirror and adjusts his hair quickly. “It's a campus town after all. They won't bat an eye.”

“Good.” Harry makes sure the window won't accidentally close but won't let any rain in, in case the clouds break again. Then he carefully closes the door on Mittens, with a whispered promise to bring back some crispy bacon if he sticks around. When he turns around, Louis reaches up to tug at the headscarf without disturbing it. “You're really something, you know that?”

Harry prowls forward slowly, forcing Louis to back up down the hall. “Oh yeah? Something good, I hope.”

Louis chuckles when harry guides him to the left so that he doesn't run into the couches that are temporarily stored against the wall. “I am being slowly seduced by your curls.”

There's something only half joking in the moment. “Only my curls?”

“You. Just-...” Louis gives up all pretenses. He knows he's got an adoring look on his face. He's too charmed to fight it. “just you.”

Harry jerks forward, swoops in to kiss him. Louis stumbles his steps, but he clings to Harry, both giggling quietly and unwilling to part again.

“ _Oi_.” They turn around to find Nick walking out of the bathroom, a robe loosely tied around his waist. He looks rumpled. “You guys are adorable and gorgeously awake and all but... do fuck off somewhere else,” he waggles a hand at them with a half hearted glare. “Shoo.”

Harry laughs and hurries after Louis down the stairs. “I'll take pancakes to go, for you and Ed,” he yells up as they get to the landing. Louis assumes that Nick's company usually doesn't stick around for the night.

“I love you, Styles. Always.” Nick calls back, before they hear his door close.

“He loves me.” Harry leans in to peck Louis on the lips. “My life is complete.”

“I think it was conditional to the providing of food.”

“Oh well, then, lets go get it, shall we?” Harry makes a swooping gesture towards the front door.

“Sound plan.”

As he closes the door of the shared house behind himself, Harry traces a hand across Louis' back, tucking himself close so he can murmur in his ear. “Just so we're clear,” he says, “when we're not hungry, and if you're still not put off me, I'm very much in for crazy, wild afternoon sex.”

Louis bites his lip and catches Harry's hand as it falls away casually, tangling their fingers. Harry grins, and Louis shoots him a smile back, lets that be his answer.

Ziam's got some major competition coming.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran's song Kiss Me, which may or may not refer to Larry, as he may or may not have hinted. (Ed Sheeran, master of ship teasing...)  
> ***  
> This is my first completed Larry fic. There are more on the way. Let me know what you think.


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